


Such a Little Thing

by messageredacted



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-14
Updated: 2012-01-14
Packaged: 2017-10-29 13:21:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/320355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/messageredacted/pseuds/messageredacted
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s such a little thing when it happens, something that John could never have predicted but should have somehow avoided.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Such a Little Thing

**Author's Note:**

> Written for thegameison_sh prompt: Make one change
> 
> Originally written on 5 July 2011.

It’s such a little thing when it happens, something that John could never have predicted but should have somehow avoided. He can see the two of them framed in the window: Sherlock, his back to John, holding a pill up to the light. The cab driver, facing John but focused only on Sherlock, a half smile on his face. They are framed there so perfectly as if they have been arranged for John, and since there isn’t any time, John raises his gun and breathes out a steady breath and squeezes the trigger.

As Sherlock steps sideways.

The bullet hits him in the back, just left of center, just below the shoulder blade. The cabbie’s startled face is misted with blood. Sherlock staggers forward and then drops down out of sight.

No, this is impossible. This hasn’t happened. He didn’t just do that. John drops to his knees and puts the gun on the floor and then covers his face with his hands. When he looks up again, he’s going to see Sherlock still standing there. When he looks up again, he won’t actually have left the flat. He will still be looking at the laptop screen with the blinking light on it, telling him that the pink phone and Sherlock and the cab driver are all making their way across the city. He opens his eyes.

He’s still crouched on the floor. The shot is still echoing in his ears. The gun sits on the floor in front of him.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. He needs to get up and run. He needs to get over to the other building and try to somehow save Sherlock. Except he has seen enough to know that men don’t survive that kind of shot. Sherlock is most likely already dead. There is nothing John can do for him.

John is going to jail for this.

He nearly chokes on the surge of horror that he feels for that. Going to jail for the accidental murder of someone he just met, when he was really trying to save the man’s life. That thought brings him to the cabbie, and John lifts his head. He looks through the windows again.

The windows frame an empty room. The cabbie has mostly likely fled. Did he see John? Did he realize the bullet was meant for him? If the cabbie did see John, will he tell someone?

The calm that comes with combat settles over John. He has made a mistake—a terrible one. But he is not going to let himself go to jail for this. The cabbie is the perfect suspect for this crime—after all, he kidnapped Sherlock, took him here and tried to force him to take the pill. Maybe Sherlock refused to take it, and the cabbie was forced to shoot. If the cabbie never gets to tell his side of the story, no one will even think to look further. There’s only one person in this world who would ever see through the lies, and that person is lying on the floor with John’s bullet in his chest.

John rises slowly to his feet, picking up the gun.


End file.
